Paradise Regained
by Shadow Of Castiel
Summary: Dean wakes up with something he didn't expect, Sam is amused and Castiel helps him out a little. Rated M for adult content. Dean/Castiel


**Author's Notes** - This is written upon request of Castiel,DeanFangirl29, who wanted to see Dean with wings, and Castiel giving the wings and his back a rub as they hurt him, and vice versa. I hope you like it. :o) Title taken from a Fields of the Nephilim song of the same name.

* * *

Paradise Regained by Shadow Of Castiel

Dean held Castiel in his arms that night, cradling his exhausted lover with gentle hands, pressing kisses to his closed eyelids, his slightly open mouth, making the angel smile every time and kiss him back wearily. Even though Dean knew that the angel wouldn't sleep, seemed incapable of it, he realized that his current weary state was as close to sleep as Castiel would ever get.

He sighed, warm breath whuffling against Castiel's soft hair and making the angel shudder slightly in his arms at the tickling sensations upon his scalp before snuggling more into the safety and warmth of Dean's arms. The hunter felt his heart skip a beat at that, loved it when such a powerful being as an angel would find comfort and love in his arms and was grateful for it, willingly gave what Castiel needed and wanted.

The hunter closed his eyes, felt sleep pluck at his eyeballs and threaten to pull him into its weary, dreamless embrace yet he resisted for the time being, mind playing over the events of that evening and trying to reach a ready conclusion over what exactly had happened. Five minutes later and he still was closer to sleep than he was an answer. He remembered trying to exorcise a demon from some poor SOB's meatsuit, yet Castiel didn't have enough juice in his body to do it himself. He'd wiped himself out with the effort, reduced to leaning against Dean wearily, eyes sleepy and half closed, skin pale and sweating as Sam finished the job, using his knife reluctantly on the demon's vessel, knowing that he was killing a person while doing so.

Dean had allowed Sam to drive them back to the motel in silence, while he sat with Castiel in the back of the Impala, cradling his lover in his arms tenderly. The angel had seemed to enjoy the prolonged contact, even after he started to regain some of his strength. Even so, when they'd kissed, Dean had felt a strange sensation pass through his body, a pulling on the edges of his soul that he couldn't explain, a bright flash of white light, a rush of wings and voices in his ears that reminded him of Heaven and the scent of chocolate and roses filling his nostrils with their heady, delicious scents.

The kiss had ended, leaving Dean feeling weak, breathless, unable to focus and Castiel looking that little bit stronger and brighter around the eyes, more focussed and intent. Dean had still leant in for another kiss, craving the touch of Castiel's soft lips against his own, the weight of his tongue in his mouth and the taste of him fresh upon his lips. Castiel had responded, given himself to Dean as much as he usually did, mouths working hungrily together and against each other, remaining locked until they'd pulled up outside the motel room and Sam had announced the fact uncomfortably.

He'd gone straight into the bathroom, throwing one amused glance over his shoulder at the lovers as they collapsed upon the nearest bed in a tangle of weary limbs and even wearier groans, wooden barrier shutting behind the younger Winchester and cutting them from his view. They were still kissing when Sam retreated from the bathroom, childish disgusted noise sounding in his throat at their eagerly kissing state, finally settling into bed when he realized that neither Dean nor Castiel were about to make a move into the bathroom themselves. He turned his back to them, wadded his pillow over his ears in case of incriminating noises in the night, before falling into dreamless sleep.

Dean finally came back to the present, called back by the feel of Castiel's soft mouth gently pressing against his own once more, a purr of contentment working in the angel's throat when Dean responded. This time, there was no pulling on the edge of his soul discomfort, nor were there any lights or angelic choirs singing in his ears, just the feel of Castiel's lips warm and soft against his own and the weary feel of the angel's hand resting upon his neck.

Castiel felt Dean's body slowly relax in his arms, muscles releasing the tension held within them until the hunter was asleep in his arms, gentle snores breaking the air and tickling against Castiel's lips. The angel smiled tenderly to himself, drew away slightly so that he could watch the hunter while he slept. He rubbed the pad of one thumb over Dean's cheek tenderly, racing the curve of his cheekbone and the freckles that graced the hunter's skin, before he watched the way his eyelashes curled against his cheek. Dean was beautiful to Castiel, despite the fact that the hunter proclaimed his own flaws on any given day, as though they were something to be ashamed of, unworthy of anyone's love. Despite this, or probably because of this, Castiel loved him all the more.

He settled against the pillow beside his lover, closed his eyes and snuggled still closer into Dean's sleeping embrace. Even though he didn't sleep, he drifted, consciousness slipping along the ether on wings of shadow, forever tethered to his vessel by strenuous links, attentive to Dean's awakening, ready to be there when he woke.

* * *

Dean was dreaming, drifting along pillars of clouds that spiralled and flittered against his sides and the air was perfumed, filled with the notes of happiness and singing unlike anything he'd ever heard before. He smiled, turned around himself, took in every last thing that he saw, before moving on.

He took two more steps, three, four then was doubled over as if from inner turmoil, gasping for breath as strife threatened to tear him apart. He heard voices, loud, yet strangely indistinct, on the edge of his consciousness yet not easily discernible and impossible to make out the words being spoken. He was aware, however that there was some kind of argument going on, judging by the timbre of the voices, the intensity of the pain inside him, as though there were two other beings trying to gain control of his system, his body, his everything. He tried to resist but finally he succumbed, unable to stand up beneath the weight of an argument bigger than he was.

He slowly stood, suddenly free of inner strife and turmoil, seemingly free and stripped clean of anything negative that had been boiling inside him. He felt light, unbowed by anything, free, untroubled, spirit soaring as high as a bird. His arms were spread by his side and he stretched his wings out, out, out until they reached twenty feet across, feathers luxuriant and beautifully shimmering in the light. They were white, shot through with a brilliant rainbow sheen, soft, malleable yet infinitely strong.

He stood, leapt from the safety of the clouds below and wheeled through the air, screaming with joy and singing, voice raising to meet the choirs around him ...

* * *

Dean awoke the next morning, feeling strangely cramped, as though he'd been sleeping in an awkward position all night, back aching and heavy feeling somehow. He tried to turn onto his back, yet found his access restricted, as though something was behind him preventing him from turning over. He sat up, felt the large something drag after him, catch against the bedcovers and snag against the side of the bed, wrenching painfully at his shoulders and back, making him wince in pain.

He turned his head and yelled loud enough to wake Sam across the room, and rouse Castiel from his meditations beside him, both pairs of eyes trained fixedly on the beautiful, yet very large pair of wings spreading from the elder Winchester's back.

"What the hell, dude?" Dean yelled, when he trusted his voice enough to make at least a halfway coherent sentence.

"You've got wings," Sam said, looking caught halfway between amusement and amazement at the sight.

"If you dare say anything about Red Bull, so help me God, I'll kick your ass halfway into next week," Dean stated, pointing forcefully at his brother and not looking as amused as Sam was right then.

He felt the weight of the weighty flight muscles and the feathers dragging against his shoulders, the vague beginnings of uncomfortable pain shivering down his back with every unconscious movement his wings made, every flutter, every flex and shift of his strong flight muscles. Castiel looked transfixed, large blue eyes seeming larger still as he stared reverently at the beautiful soft white wings, shot through with shimmers of the brightest rainbow.

"What the hell? Seriously, what the hell?" Dean said again, craning his neck over one shoulder to try and see more of the things sprouting from his back. "I'm not supposed to have these. They were a dream."

"Wait, a dream?" Sam asked, suddenly perking to full attention as he swung his legs out and over the side of the bed, leaning forward to experimentally flick one of Dean's wings.

"Hey," Dean groused, flicking Sam forcefully with his wing and buffeting his brother back against his bed.

"Hey yourself," Sam groused back, ducking another sweep and flicker of his brother's wing through the air. "Are you gonna tell us about that dream or not?"

Dean opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed, before recounting his dream of the night before, realizing that he had no choice but to tell them. It looked as though Sam thought there was a connection between the dream and the appearance of the wings, judging by the look upon his face and privately Dean agreed, although reluctant to tell his brother of this fact.

Castiel remained riveted to the wings, liquid blue eyes mesmerised by the ever shifting surfaces, seemingly tempted to touch them yet just keeping himself from doing so. Dean turned, one wing flicking out uncontrollably to buffet Sam once more who yelled with muffled alacrity beneath the shifting weight of feathers against his face.

"Dude, get off me," Sam said, once his mouth was free from feathers, pushing mightily against Dean's wing with both hands.

"Sorry," Dean muttered, tried to fold his wing back up again but found it difficult to control them.

He managed to fold it halfway and gave up taking it further. He reasoned that at least it was out of Sam's face and didn't prevent him from getting up from the bed if he wanted to. The younger Winchester promptly moved, in case the wing unfolded and trapped him once more. Castiel was watching the debacle with a growing sense of amusement warming his eyes, much to Dean's dismay.

"I dunno what you're laughing at, Cas," Dean said, taken aback. "You're supposed to have wings. I'm not. You know what to do with yours."

Castiel's smile grew wider and his rumbling laugh cracked against the air as Dean's wing snapped out and came within inches of poking his brother in the eye.

"Goddammit," Dean said, but left his wing unfolded this time not having the energy nor the willpower to even attempt to fold it back in once more. "We have to do something about these."

"Like what?" Castiel asked, one hand reaching out as though he desperately wanted to touch one of Dean's wings and just stopping short.

"Like figure out where they came from and make them go. Permanently," Dean said, heatedly, before his gaze softened at his lover's hurt expression. "I'm sorry, Cas. I'm not supposed to have wings, dude. I'm human. Wings look good on you; they belong to you, not me. How the hell am I supposed to go outside looking like this? Or fight demons? I can't see it happening, Cas, I'm sorry."

Castiel, though still looking hurt, looked a little happier, as far as Dean could tell in a largely expressionless face. Dean had long since learnt to try and read his lover's eyes, the set of his mouth, imperceptible movements that would have meant little or nothing to anyone who didn't truly know Castiel. The angel still was not used to manipulating Jimmy's flesh to show his feelings, if he even felt anything but love strongly. The hunter knew Castiel felt love; he was aware of it every time they were together, with every kiss, every caress, every time they made love. It was only the more obvious signs of mirth like the extremely rare occasions when the angel actually laughed that gave Dean some indication of when Castiel was happy or found something funny.

"I think I have an answer, Dean," Castiel offered finally, in answer to Dean's earlier comment, deep voice reassuringly sympathetic to Dean's ever increasing agitated state.

"Right?" Dean asked, turning to face his lover once more as Sam ducked his swooping wings behind him with a red faced curse.

"I think I transferred some of my powers over to you last night when we kissed," Castiel said, looking a little shifty around the eyes, as though he wasn't quite sure where to look - at Dean or at the floor.

"What?" Dean asked, leaning forward to catch his lover's attention back to his staring face once more. "Care to explain that, Cas?"

"My powers aren't what they used to be. You've seen evidence of that," Castiel replied, looking sad and uncomfortable over his ever diminishing powers, receding back into the ether and leaving him ever more human as time passed slowly.

"Yeah, you were pretty wiped out last night," Sam concurred, as Dean stood and looked guilty.

No matter how many times Castiel told Dean that it didn't matter any more, that he was starting to become accustomed to being human, it didn't make Dean feel any better or easier about what he had done, that he'd effectively gotten Castiel barred from Heaven, from his powers and his brothers.

"I don't see what this has to do with me suddenly sprouting wings overnight, dude," Dean replied, eyes uncertain, shoulders shrugging and wincing at the pain that one small movement cost him, as his new appendages dragged at his shoulder muscles awkwardly.

"I think when I kissed you, I accidentally pulled some of your essence into me, to help me heal, and I think that some of me went into you," Castiel said, deep voice trailing off as though uncertain as to how Dean would react to his theory.

"You stole my essence?" Dean asked in horror, eyes wide as he struggled to take on what Castiel had said.

"To heal, yes," Castiel replied, with a slow nod of his head, face blank and expressionless once more.

"Feel better, do you?" Dean asked, still uncertain as to how to react to the situation himself.

Sam stifled a laugh behind him, purposefully ducking when his brother jabbed one wing in his direction to shut him up.

"Somewhat, yes. I'm not back to my full powers, such as they are now, but given time, I will be fully functional once more," and Castiel, at least, looked a little hopeful at that.

"Right," Dean murmured, scratching the back of his head as though still trying to sort out the myriad confusions and thoughts that swirled in his mind, consciousness and body. "So if you're gonna get your angel juice back soon, does that mean my wings will disappear in the same time frame?"

Castiel didn't immediately answer, brow slightly creased with concern, before he said - "I don't know, Dean."

Dean blinked at him in disbelief, opened his mouth, cheeks slightly reddened and freckles standing out in sharp relief against the skin. Castiel raised one slender hand to forestall any angry explosions from Dean, before speaking once more.

"Before you say anything, Dean, nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I have never knowingly given anyone wings. I have never kissed anyone before you, Dean, let alone when my powers have been drained. I hadn't even done - anything else - before you," and both Castiel and Dean blushed beneath Sam's sudden hoot of laughter.

"So, what you're saying is, we're both gonna have to wait until the wings disappear of their own accord, before we know that's what they're even gonna do?" Dean asked, scratching the back of his head once more, as he tried to sort through his muddled thoughts and emotions.

"Yes, Dean, that is exactly what I'm saying," the angel replied, with one of his long, slow nods, ;liquid blue eyes trained upon the hunter's face resolutely.

"Oh come on, Dean, it can't be that bad, dude. It could be worse," Sam supplied, with an expansive shrug at his brother when Dean turned to face him. "You could have woken up a girl or something."

The younger Winchester looked horrified at that, then said - "You're the girl."

Castiel looked on, head tilted to the side as he watched their exchange with some bafflement. Despite his becoming used to being more human himself, he still wasn't quite used to Dean and Sam's easy joking or treatment of one another. Dean turned his bight eyed gaze upon Castiel before he smiled at him, seeming to say with one look that Castiel should never change, or lose his baffled innocence over their mannerisms. Castiel merely shook his head as though he didn't understand.

"I'll go speak to Bobby, see if he knows of any solutions, just in case those wings don't disappear when Castiel hopes they do," Sam offered, reaching out to tug on the tip of one soft wing and causing a jolt of pain to radiate across Dean's stretched shoulder muscles. "Don't worry, you won't have to go anywhere. I'll go alone."

This last was delivered with one drawn out, weary sigh, as Sam turned away, fully expecting his brother to protest over going outside looking like an angel and being treated like a freak by those who didn't understand.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said, with relief, smiling at his brother as he threw Sam the keys to his Impala.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, dude," Sam promised, before leaving the room, door slamming with some finality behind him.

The room seemed strangely quiet with Sam's departure, quiet enough for Dean's stomach to be heard clearly, as it grumbled, complained for food deafeningly into the silence. The hunter turned hopeful eyes onto Castiel, who stared back, expectantly, innocently, as though he wondered what Dean wanted.

"Get me some pie, sweetheart," Dean said, with a hopeful smile at the angel.

"As you wish," Castiel replied, stoically, a hint of a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he dipped his head in assent to his lover.

Dean watched Castiel leave, before sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling strangely lonely, with nothing but a pair of wings to keep him company until Castiel returned with his pie.

* * *

The wings that sprouted from between Dean's shoulderblades dipped and swayed with every movement that he made, dragging on the muscles in his shoulders and making them ache with a dull, uncomfortable pain. He cursed, wondered why or even how Castiel put up with the discomfort, then reminded himself once again that Castiel was created with wings and so didn't know any different or better throughout his existence. To the angel, his wings were an essential part of him, his anatomy, even a source of pride Dean imagined, but to a human who wasn't supposed to have wings, they were uncomfortable, painful.

It wasn't that he didn't like them; he guessed they were pretty enough, but he just wasn't supposed to have them. He would be damned if he ever admitted to anyone who possibly wasn't Castiel that he'd called his own wings pretty. He doubted they would ever understand him.

He shifted against the bed, tried to fold his wings into a better position, where they didn't drag upon his shoulders, nor would they create pain radiating from the base of the wildly flapping feathered appendages down his back and well into the back of his thighs. He winced as a particularly sharp lance of pain set his whole left leg into pinprick cramps. His eyes screwed shut, cutting off the view of the motel room at large that now proved to be his prison of late, and so missed Castiel's arrival.

"Hello, Dean," said the angel, deep voice cutting through the silence as he stared down at the prostrate hunter upon the bed, direct gaze heavily skimming over Dean's new wings.

The hunter couldn't mistake the barely restrained sense of lust sparking in Castiel's eyes at the sight of him, the wings fanning the flames of his lust into something brighter, hotter, enticing. He watched as the angel set the pie aside, gaze never leaving the hunter's shining wings once.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, struggling to sit and almost unbalancing himself from the bed with the weight of the wings moving sluggishly, heavily behind him.

He winced at the fresh lance of pain that dragged his shoulders down until he settled the wings into a better position and the discomfort eased a little. He sighed and even smiled a little at the surprising ease with which he now sat. He pulled one of the wings around his body, played a little with the end of it and smiled at the surprisingly pleasant feelings that flooded his body at the merest touch of his own wingtip.

"How d'you put up with these things, Cas?" Dean asked, raising his eyes to meet Castiel's direct blue gaze uncertainly, mouth pulled down into a slight grimace at the remembered discomfort and drag upon his muscles.

Castiel tilted his head to one side as he regarded the hunter, before shrugging slightly at him, slender shoulders rising and falling in gentle time.

"My father gave me them. They are no different to me than a leg is to you, or an arm," Castiel replied, confirming Dean's earlier thoughts on the subject. "To me, to the angels, wings are beautiful. The softer the feathers, the more vivid the colors, the more attractive they are to us."

He stopped speaking, looked away as though blushing and when Dean looked to him, the angel's cheeks were stained a healthy pink, full lips puckered into an embarrassed, yet needy pout.

"Cas," Dean said, attracting the angel's attention back to him for an instant.

Castiel looked uncomfortable, eyes just refraining from looking directly at Dean, mouth gaping slightly in barely concealed huffs of desire as his eyes skimmed over Dean's wings then skittered away as though bashful.

"Castiel," Dean said again, using his full name for a change which at least did the job of attracting the angel's full attention.

Castiel was all too used to Dean now using the nickname Cas, or more lately since their relationship started getting particularly serious and heavy - sweetheart. Privately, the angel liked being called sweetheart by Dean, a term of endearment that marked him out as special to Dean, close to the hunter's heart and made him feel loved. He couldn't remember the last time that Dean had ever used his full name in a sentence.

"How do my wings rate on your scale of angelic hot-ness, then?" Dean asked, lips quirking into an amused look of genuine curiosity, guessing that it was quite high judging by Castiel's reaction yet needing to hear the angel say so out loud.

"Very high," Castiel said, quietly, so quietly Dean had to lean forward and strain to hear him speak.

The angel came closer, unable to stay away from his lover and the wings that attracted him so much, sat beside Dean with a reverential look at the feathered wings that soared over their heads and seemed to fill his immediate vision. He cleared his throat before continuing to speak.

"They are very beautiful, Dean. An angel would be proud to call them his own," he said, eyes transfixed by the shimmering feathers surrounding him.

His slender fingers reached out, stopped within reach of Dean's wings, seemed to want to touch them yet was too reverential to sully them with his fingertips. Dean watched him curiously, knowing that Castiel was the one person he knew he wanted to touch his wings, despite the discomfort of their strangeness on his back.

"Please touch them, Cas," Dean prompted, gently, nudging Castiel's knee with his own and giving him a pleading look.

Castiel gave him a wide eyed look, as though he didn't quite dare to feel them, thought that his fingers weren't good enough to even go near one feather.

"Please, Cas," Dean urged, resting one gentle hand on the angel's knee, pad of one thumb stroking gently against Castiel's pant leg. "You're my boyfriend; you're allowed to touch them."

Castiel's tongue peeked out from between his plump lips, sweeping across the full surface of his lower lip nervously as he closed the distance between his hand and Dean's left wing. Dean jerked at the feel of Castiel's hand against his feathers, at the sheer weight of desire that coursed through him at even the slightest touch from his lover and Castiel pulled away as though he'd burnt Dean.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked, teeth gritted against the pain that knotted the muscles in his shoulderblades.

"Our wings are very sensitive, Dean, as you just found out. Most angels like their wings to be touched, groomed even but only by other angels they really have respect for, or trust," he said.

"Or love," Dean supplied, hopefully.

Castiel's head dipped in slow assent at his lover.

"It is unusual for an angel to pick another angel out for love, to venerate above all others. Really, we see ourselves as one and the same, all beautiful, all perfect. But yes, I suspect that if one truly loves then senses can be somewhat heightened," Castiel said, as he turned his liquid blue eyes onto Dean with surprised gratitude and renewed love held within.

Dean was silent at that; more because he didn't want to sully the direction the conversation was going with an inappropriate joke or jibe than not truly knowing what to say. Castiel didn't seem to mind the silence; instead he seemed to know why Dean was keeping quiet. He even smiled a little, large eyes crinkling at the corners as he stared at his lover affectionately.

"You really love me," he said, quietly, reaching up to cup Dean's cheek tenderly.

Dean couldn't quite meet Castiel's gaze then, a blush staining his cheeks and making his freckles stand out in sharp relief against the reddened skin. He didn't know why he was embarrassed when the emotions he felt were genuine. Perhaps it was because Castiel could now so easily read them; they were literally displayed in his new wings and he couldn't hide the depth of his love any longer.

"You don't have to hide, Dean," Castiel said, gently, leaning in to press a gentle, tender kiss upon the hunter's cheek. "It's a good thing to love, you know. Don't deny yourself a good thing."

"I know," Dean said, hoarsely, before clearing his throat and repeating the words so that Castiel could hear them. "I'm just not used to feeling love, not like this."

Castiel remained silent, turned a beautifully intense stare upon his lover, full lips puckered into a kissable pout as he watched Dean. The hunter sighed before turning his eyes to Castiel's, became captured by the intensity of that liquid blue gaze. He shifted, trued to turn his body more fully towards Castiel's but winced and drew in a sharp breath at fresh discomfort that poured through his body as one wing caught on the edge of the bed and pulled at his shoulder awkwardly. Castiel drew away, hand still resting upon Dean's cheek, eyes worried as he stared at the hunter closely.

"Do they hurt you?" he asked, deep voice tight and pinched with obvious concern for Dean.

The hunter turned surprised eyes onto Castiel, never having heard his lover so laid bare as to verbally show his emotions in the way that he was.

"They ache a bit," Dean admitted, not wanting to fully admit to how the weight of the feathers and muscles, and extra bones dragged at his shoulders and pulled at his spine in a way his body wasn't designed to be pulled.

Castiel's plump lips narrowed as he stared at Dean, as though he were deciding what to do for the best for him. He knew that he couldn't remove the wings for him and didn't even know whether he wanted to. Dean on his own terms was beautiful to Castiel, but seemed more beautiful still with the graceful wings of an angel arching gently from his back. He tentatively touched Dean's shoulder, judged from the wince in Dean's eyes that that was one of the places where Dean ached, before he started to rub at the affected muscles with slender hand, long fingers and plenty of patience.

"Uhh, yeah," Dean groaned suddenly, eyes closing and mouth gaping at the sudden feel of warmth that seemed to flow from Castiel's hand into his aching body, at the soothing motions his fingers made against his skin.

Castiel allowed a fleeting smile cross his face, as he stood, pulled his hand away as he slowly removed first his tan coat, then his suit jacket, laying them to one side and moving behind Dean. The hunter, although protesting at first at the loss of Castiel's fingers against his skin, watched him move gracefully behind him, craning his neck over his shoulder and trying to watch the angel behind him. The restriction of his own neck and the blocking mass of feathers from his own wings stopped him from watching Castiel, yet he still could feel him, hear him.

"Lay down, Dean, on your stomach," Castiel commanded, voice heavy with something that Dean could only identify as lust.

Dean complied silently, settled upon his abdomen comfortably, wings stretching out to envelop the room in waves of shimmering feathers, supported by Sam's bed and a table against the far wall. It took the weight from his shoulders a little, yet still he needed Castiel's touch, craved it, hungered for his soothing fingers upon naked skin.

He felt the weight of Castiel bearing down upon him as the angel straddled him, settling down gently upon the backs of Dean's legs, knees pulled up and around the hunter's sturdy waist before he traced his fingers over his lover's back in tickling strokes. Dean moaned loudly at the soothing contact, obvious enjoyment clear in his voice as Castiel's fingers moved higher, started manipulating the flesh at the base of Dean's wings, rubbed against knotted muscles in his shoulders and eased the tension away knot by knot by tension filled knot.

Dean was lulled into a sense of comfort at the feel of Castiel's surprisingly skilled fingers massaging against his skin, warmth pouring into his body as though channelled from the angel himself to aid his recovery. He moaned, sighed in contentment at the feel of the angel's hands concentrating on the bases of Dean's wings, stroking against the heavily muscled bases and lingering there reverently. Dean felt himself drifting into lulled sleep, aroused murmurs falling from his lips every so often to encourage Castiel still further in his efforts to soothe him.

Castiel smiled, full lips puckering into a pleased pout as he watched Dean's eyes slowly fall closed, eyelashes fanning out above freckled cheeks and a contented snore breaking against the air, soon followed by another. Dean's body was heavy beneath his own, relaxed, smoothed out into comfortable lines and Castiel slowly eased his fingers up and into the feathers that overlapped on the hunter's wings. He stroked them, breath held at the silky texture beneath his palms, at the beautiful colors that swirled and shot through soft, silken surfaces.

He felt his vessel's body react, dick stiffen against the restrictive material of his boxers and pants as Castiel's pleasure and arousal poured through him, fingers dwelling on Dean's wings gently, unable to stop touching them. He leant down and kissed one of Dean's wings, and Dean woke with an aroused cry breaking the air and sending his eyes into staring blankness.

"Cas," Dean yelled, when Castiel kissed his wing once more, fingers threaded through the feathers as he purred against the wings gently.

Arousal baked from Dean's body, thickening the air around them with its heady scent as the hunter's dick became hard and painful between his legs. Pleasure shot through his body in intoxicating waves, consuming him until there was nothing left but arousal and sexual excitement. Every touch of Castiel's soft lips against his wings were magnified, every brush and sweep of his fingers seemed to be reaching down deep inside Dean himself and stroking at places he could never hope to reach otherwise.

Dean moaned Castiel's name again, ragged breath hanging thick in his throat as though threatening to choke him. He ached for Castiel, needed to fuck him or be fucked, needed to climax will still riding his lover's body somehow. He didn't realize he'd even spoken his intent aloud, literally begged for it until Castiel leant down and pressed a kiss to his cheek softly and nodded against his hair.

Dean turned at the sound of wings rippling and tearing the air behind him and he half turned, as far as Castiel's surprisingly heavy body against his hips and his own great flapping wings would allow. He only dimly registered that they no longer hurt him, that the pain was gone as was the discomfort; all he could now see was Castiel behind him, wings stretching across the room and a rapturous look of arousal brightening the angel's face and making him seem even more beautiful than he already was to Dean.

Dean could now see what Castiel meant; that an angel's wings were a rare thing of beauty and he couldn't understand why he hadn't seen them in this light before. Castiel's wings were, though still shadowy, caught the light in such a way that each feather was defined, soft looking, luxurious, beautiful. Dean longed to touch them, to imitate the exact things that Castiel had done to him mere moments before. Castiel nodded at that, as if knowing what was going through Dean's mind and wanting it.

"Please, Dean," he murmured, deep voice pitched low as he stared down at his lover. "Please."

He slowly swung his leg over Dean's body, effectively freeing him from beneath his weight and quickly undressing, wings slowly stuttering back into his body as he removed his shirt, before unfolding once more to softly catch the light again. He laid down upon Sam's bed, wings outspread as he waited for Dean to come to him, to pleasure him in the same way he'd pleasured Dean mere moments before. The hunter slowly stood, waited for the pain and discomfort to hit him and was pleased when nothing happened. His wings now felt a part of him, warm against his back and no more hampering than his own legs or arms were. He wondered how long Castiel's massage would last for, whether the discomfort would return and knew that if it did, both he and Castiel would enjoy repeating the events of this afternoon again in any case.

He straddled Castiel's slim hips eagerly, loved the feel of The angel's naked ass beneath his legs and he reached eagerly for Castiel's back. He manipulated the flesh a little more awkwardly than Castiel had done, fingers not quite finding the rhythm at first until he hit the base of the angel's wings. Then each movement smoothed out in gentle lines, became more fluid and beautiful as he ran his fingertips against the soft feathered bases of the angel's wings and made Castiel purl and whine beneath him.

Castiel's eyes were wide, staring, blind to everything except the pleasure coursing through his body with every sweep of Dean's fingers, pre-cum staining the blankets beneath him as his dick became impossibly hard and aching between his legs. He purred, louder, louder, louder still as Dean slowly started work upon his wings, hands dipping and sweeping through the soft feathers, smoothing the natural oil across the surfaces gently.

The hunter smiled at the beautiful texture of Castiel's wings beneath his hands, loved the rapturous look of bliss that suffused his lover's face, so intense and naked, and heartbreakingly beautiful to look upon. He knew from recent experience just how beautiful it felt for someone to caress his wings, so knew that Castiel was feeling the same as he had done. He folded his own wings into gentle curves against his back, as he slowly ground his hips against Castiel's, hard dick rubbing along the crease of Castiel's ass to show his intent, that he wanted to fuck him.

Castiel nodded, slowly, waited until Dean had eased away from his body before kneeling expectantly upon the bed, head tilted as he looked over his shoulder at the hunter expectantly. Dean groaned at his readiness, at the curve of Castiel's hard dick curling up towards the angel's abdomen, at the beads of pre-cum gathering at the tip in neediness.

Dean hopped from the bed, wings snapping out suddenly to balance him when he didn't compensate for the extra weight and only the slightest discomfort rippled through his body at the sharp movement. He kept them half folded against his back, enjoying the flow of warm air over his feathers as he walked to his bag and retrieved his lube from its dark confines.

Castiel was still waiting, wings unfurled and framing his body beautifully as Dean climbed onto the bed behind him. Arousal was sparking through Dean's body, setting his veins afire as he squeezed the lube hastily over his fingers and dipped his hand between Castiel's ass cheeks gently. He heard the angel's sharp intake of breath, saw Castiel's wings shiver as Dean breached him, feathers ruffling with aroused excitement as the hunter started loosening him in preparation for Dean himself.

The hunter concentrated upon the task at hand, loved the way that Castiel eagerly fucked himself onto his hand, pleasured purls of need working free from plump lips as Castiel twisted and writhed beneath him, wings seemingly snapping and shuddering out of control. Dean's own wings snapped out and up, arching out across the room in sympathy and brushing up against Castiel's, feathers tangling and catching, tips entwining and holding on.

Dean's aroused cries met Castiel's as pleasure coursed through him from the prolonged contact with his wings and he almost came as Castiel slid his wingtips purposefully across the hunter's wings, dragging against soft feathers and causing Dean to scream and buck against his body. The hunter pulled his hand away from Castiel's ass, quickly applied lube to his aching cock before pushing himself inside his lover. barely waiting for the tension to leave Castiel's body before fully sheathing inside him.

Dean didn't want to come until he was inside his lover, didn't want to waste his seed unnecessarily on a juvenile emission. He was 31, not 13 after all. He started thrusting harshly inside his lover, wringing beautiful notes of aroused pleasure from Castiel's throat as the angel fucked himself mercilessly back onto Dean's dick every time that he withdrew. Their wings flapped and entwined with every jerk of their thrusting hips, sending jolts of orgasmic pleasure through their bodies and Dean screamed, back arching as he climaxed, spurting his spend inside Castiel in hot, thick streaks, Castiel's name a hoarse mantra on his lips.

His wings twisted and snapped, swept the lamp from the table to send it crashing, smashing to the floor, plunging that part of the room into darkness, as he pulled away from his lover, soft member falling easily from Castiel's ass. He collapsed upon the bed beside Castiel, carefully, instinctively arranging his wings so that he wouldn't crush them, break them unnecessarily, before Castiel fell onto his back, dick still hard and arching up towards his lean abdomen.

Castiel's moans broke the air as his hand gripped his erection, snapping against taut flesh as he jerked himself off with skilled strokes, hips rising and falling in time with his questing fingers. Dean's name burst from his lips in breathy moans and gasps, hand moving faster now as he came closer to completion and climax. His breath turned squeaky and harsh, before his hips caught in mid-air, froze and he climaxed, come splashing over his hand and his abdomen in thick ropes, Dean's name a long drawn out note of love and need.

He turned his gaze to Dean's, saw the fascinated look of want caught behind Dean's eyes and he gave his lover an exhausted smile, pressing into the hunter's body and giving him a sloppy kiss, mouths open and wet. Their wings entwined once more, feathers brushing up against soft feathers and making their owners shudder and moan against each other, as they continued kissing.

Finally, Dean moved, pulled away reluctantly as his stomach started complaining of lack of food, reminding the hunter that he still hadn't eaten as yet. The angel watched him as he sat, skin still shining with sweat and sticky come, wings standing proudly from his body as the hunter leant across Castiel's body, retrieving the pie, now cold, that the angel had placed there earlier. Castiel watched him, lips parted as Dean started to eat, pleased moans working past his pastry speckled mouth, pointing down to the pie appreciatively.

"This is good pie, Cas," Dean commented, happily. "Where did you get it?"

"The diner across the road. I, er, kind of juiced it up a little," Castiel admitted, a little hesitantly. "The pie didn't look very appetizing when I bought it."

"You juiced it - oh. Does that mean you're getting your powers back now?" Dean asked, and Castiel couldn't mistake the forlorn look of disappointment in his eyes, his voice, the set of his shoulders.

It seemed to the angel that Dean was now used to his wings, and would miss them when they were gone. The angel felt a little remorseful at that, then reminded himself that the hunter wouldn't be able to function for long with the wings in place. His life would be severely hampered if they were always on show, and Castiel could see that Dean remembered that small fact, despite the sadness over soon losing them.

"Yes, Dean; they're coming slowly back," Castiel replied, softly to Dean's previous question.

Dean nodded silently, didn't speak again until he'd finished his pie and even then he merely announced he was going to take a shower. He looked hopefully at Castiel at that statement, as though he wanted the angel to join him, an open invitation clear in his eyes. Castiel nodded slowly at that, pleasure shining in his cerulean depths as he watched his lover navigate the room with his wings folded flat against his well muscled back, into the bathroom.

They were fully dressed and talking by the time Sam returned from Bobby's later that evening, walking through the door as the sun slowly sank to the horizon in a blaze of glorious colors. He had no answers for Dean; Bobby hadn't known anything about angelic wings springing from human backs, so knew no cure for them. Dean had shrugged, already feeling the wings fading from his back, angelic appendages slowly receding in feathered wind.

Just as Castiel's powers were now returning, so he was losing his wings to Heaven once more. Even though he'd mourn their passing and the sensory pleasure he'd experienced with them, he wouldn't miss them when they were gone. After all, he had demons to kill, the Apocalypse to stop, Lucifer to kill and all manner of bitches piling out of the Volkswagen to deal with. He couldn't do all of that and be expected to be taken seriously with fluffy white wings upon his back. At least Castiel had the luxury of folding them away somewhere in his vessel's body, or on another plane of existence, or wherever it was that Castiel wrapped them.

Sam was surprised when Dean suggested that they go outside for a while, to watch the sun go down and at least experience the feel of cool, fresh air playing over his wings before they disappeared, but he agreed, after first checking to see that they would be alone outside. He followed them lazily out, stopping to retrieve the food he'd left in the front seat of the Impala and placing the paper sack on the shining bodywork of the hood. He remained there, while the hunter and his angel walked further away from him, walking to the barrier looking out across the harbour, to lean upon its metal frame, wings outspread and ruffling in the evening breezes.

Dean watched the sun going down, dipping its orange-faced disc towards the horizon in its well worn and inexorable path. Castiel soon joined him, fingers wrapping around Dean's own as they exchanged tender smiles. Sam stood back and off to one side, watched as their wings entwined, tips meshing together as though they were clasping fingers instead of feathers, perfectly mirroring their hands. He smiled at the tender image before returning to the Impala, leaning against the hood to afford the lovers their privacy, as he slowly started to eat his salad baguette ....

-fini-


End file.
